


Jon and Martin learn their ABCs

by ghostofnoodlewrap



Series: Vaguely interconnected fics where Jon and Martin are kinky [7]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bondage, Discipline, Humiliation, Impact Play, Kinky, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Public Sex, Temperature Play, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 14,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofnoodlewrap/pseuds/ghostofnoodlewrap
Summary: A series of one-word prompts which may or may not aid Jon and Martin in learning the alphabet.(Reading previous part of the series is not necessary, but highly welcomed)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Vaguely interconnected fics where Jon and Martin are kinky [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808656
Comments: 330
Kudos: 264





	1. A for Awareness

**Author's Note:**

> While each chapter is short, I plan to put out a chapter daily. These prompts are non-chronological with both each other and the series as a whole. Some of them are fluff, some of them are smut. An alarming portion are both...
> 
> With 26 prompts, it's a bit difficult to tag everything. There will be detailed content warnings on any chapter I feel needs them. However, there are major content warnings on the following chapters:
> 
> C (chapter 3) - sexual acts in a public place  
> H (chapter 8) - watersports/piss play and humiliation  
> V (chapter 22) - consensual non-consent  
> Jon is trans. Feminine terminology is used for his genitalia.

Jon likes lazy mornings. Yes, he can be up and out of the door in under fifteen minutes if needs be, although he wouldn’t consider himself work-ready and productive until he’s caffeinated (and sometimes that only comes when Martin brings him his first cup of tea of the morning). But give him the choice and the alarm is turned off and the curtains drawn against the sun that will surely rise before he does.

Right between the divide of asleep and awake is where he likes it the most. When he’s aware enough to take in the tickle of Martin’s hair, or the sweetness of bare skin against his own, but not awake enough yet to move or think or really do much of anything but lie there.

And lazy Saturday mornings like this one are his favourite. Martin, nestled in his arms, still naked from the night before, their bare legs tangled together. Later, Jon will remember that there’s washing up to be done, and the laundry needs folding, and the strap needs a good wash after the night before. But there’s no need to worry about any of that now.

Martin shifts, perhaps aware that Jon’s only on the cusp of sleep. Jon’s never said the words ‘I miss you, even when you’re just asleep,’ but maybe Martin knows.

“G’morning.” Martin murmurs.

“Morning, love.” Jon replies into the curls of Martin’s hair.

Martin yawns, and he wriggles in Jon’s arms as he stretches a little. Then he flips himself onto his other side so that he’s facing Jon. Both of them keep their eyes closed, trusting touch to guide their morning kiss from on the cheek to on the lips.

They kiss slowly. Deeply, to be honest. There’s not much heat in it, but Martin’s morning wood still pokes Jon in the stomach. Jon’s never much been one for morning sex, but he’s not adverse to lending Martin a hand,

Jon rucks up his shirt so that the head of Martin’s prick smears across the bare skin of his stomach. He places his hands on Martin’s hips and encourages him to grind. This goes on for a few minutes until Jon breaks the kiss to lick over his palm. Then he takes Martin in his hand and stokes him off slow and steady.

It would be quicker to use his mouth, but the bed is too comfortable to move that far - and it _would_ take some repositioning. Martin gasps into Jon’s mouth with every stroke and Jon swallows each and every one of them.

‘I’m going to…” Martin says after a while.

“Come for me.” Jon instructs against Martin’s lips.

Martin whimpers and complies, spilling sticky fluid over Jon’s hand. He manages to catch most of it, which is a good thing as these sheets only went on a couple of days ago. It would be a shame to need to wash them again already.

Jon sits up, extracting his messy hand from under the covers. “Time to get up?” He asks as he looks around for the nearest source of a tissue.

“Give me five.” Martin says.

“Of course, my love.”


	2. B is for Borrowed

Jon’s wearing one of Martin’s jumpers again. Martin doesn’t mind, per se, even if that particular one is new and he was looking for it earlier (not thinking that Jon had stepped out to the shops wearing it). The collar of the shirt peeking out from behind it is plaid, which means it’s probably Martin’s too. It’s not that Jon doesn’t have plaid shirts, it's just he doesn’t have all that many and most of them are blue, not red.

Jon lifts one of the shopping bags he’s carrying in greeting. “The milk turned, so I went to pick up more.”

“Did you get anything else?” Martin asks, because it does not take two bags to carry home a couple of pints of milk.

“Some bread, and some of the biscuits you like.” Jon says. “The ones with the cranberries in them.”

“You are far too good for me.” Martin says, and he walks across the room because it’s high time he kissed Jon good morning.

Jon leans up into the kiss. His nose is cold from the morning air and his lips chapped. As Martin’s hands slide around Jon’s waist on their way to a cheeky bum squeeze, he notices something very familiar about the texture of the fabric. Sure enough, when Martin pulls back and looks down, there’s plenty of spare fabric pooled around Jon’s ankles.

“What?” Jon asks.

“Are you wearing my trousers?” Martin asks.

“Perhaps…” Jon replies. “You left them on the floor and they’re mine now.”

“How are they even staying up?” 

“Have you never heard of a belt?”

“And I suppose this belt is mine too?” Martin says.

“It may well be.” Jon says. “I may have added an additional hole to it, although I’d like to think I’m more than just a notch in your belt.”

“Are you wearing any of your own clothes?” Martin asks.

It’s no secret that he likes seeing Jon in his clothes. Martin likes it almost as much as he likes taking Jon out of them.

“I suppose you’ll have to inspect my underwear yourself to find out.” Jon says. He raises an eyebrow in a way that makes it clear that it's an invitation.

Martin’s hands find Jon’s belt and unlatch the buckle. Without the belt cinching them in, Jon’s borrowed trousers fall straight down. There isn’t anything under them.

“Can I have you?” Martin asks at barely more than a whisper.

The sudden pang of possessiveness is almost as strong as the sheer lust coursing its way through Martin. He wants to fuck Jon in the borrowed shirt and jumper he’s wearing and leave him smelling like sex for the rest of the day.

“Let me put the milk away first.” Jon says.

Later, after Martin’s fucked Jon raw and covered his thighs in sperm, Jon confesses that he was wearing his own socks. He tried on a couple of pairs of Martin’s but they just didn’t fit right. 

Well, Martin supposes he can begrudge Jon that.


	3. C is for Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Surreptitious use of a vibrator (on Jon) in public, without members of the public being aware of this. Fun in porn, iffy in practice.  
> -Coming in public.

Martin presses the button on the controller in his pocket. He can’t hear the upkick in vibrations that causes, not over the background noise of the restaurant, but Jon suddenly chokes on his water.

“Problem?” Martin asks, when it becomes apparent that Jon isn’t going to drown.

“N-No…” Jon says.

Their food is all gone and the plates cleared. Martin’s in the mood for desert, but not the kind on the menu in this establishment. But the bill won’t come until he catches the eye of one of the waitstaff and asks for it.

Lord knows that Jon isn’t in any position to make eye contact with a stranger right now.

“In that case…”

Martin presses the button again. And then another time for good measure. This isn’t fun unless Jon can barely contain himself.

There’s a slight possibility of someone catching them, but the restaurant is nearly empty and they’re seating in a booth that’s well out of the way. And the reviews of this place didn’t rate the servers as being particularly proactive, so really they’re unlikely to be caught.

But Jon likes the thrill of it, and so does Martin.

Jon barely manages to keep his moan quite enough to not alert any of the other hypothetical diners. But his cheeks are red, his fingers clawlike on the table, and his mouth open. Martin knows he’s close.

Martin leans across the table and presses his lips to Jon’s. To the outside world it just looks like a kiss, but in reality, Martin swallows the sounds Jon makes as he comes. Their little secret. He turns the vibrator back down to its lowest setting afterwards. Just a little thrum to tide Jon over.

“Take me home.” Jon says.

It isn’t far. Just around the corner.

“We haven’t paid for our meal yet.” Martin says.

“Martin…”

“How about this. If you manage not to finish again until we get home, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.”

“Deal.”

Martin smirks. Jon doesn’t need to know, but they might end up taking the scenic route home. An evening stroll might benefit them both.


	4. D is for Discipline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Bondage  
> -Impact play with a crop  
> -Vague threat of using the crop on Martin's balls (not carried out)  
> -BDSM used as discipline/punishment (upon request).

“Tell me what you did wrong.” Jon says.

“The plate.” Martin says.

Jon trails the crop softly down the back of Martin’s thigh. He’s trembling already, although Jon’s pretty sure it’s not from exertion. Yes, being strapped wrist and ankle into the spreader bar isn’t the world’s most comfortable position, but it shouldn’t be too uncomfortable yet.

“What about the plate?” Jon says. He lets the soft leather on the end of the crop stroke over Martin’s balls and the other man shivers. Jon wouldn’t actually hit him there (not without some explicit permission at least), but it appears the threat is appreciated.

“I-I.” Martin stops to gasp. “I broke it. Your favourite. It was your favourite too.”

Jon gives him a sharp tap on the back of the thigh.

“Not my favourite.” He corrects. “But it was part of a set. And now we three instead of four.”

Jon’s not the sort of person to get aroused by pornography, in person or not. And there’s no doubt in his mind that Martin, trussed up as he is with a fat toy plugging his hole, is anything but explicit right now. But there’s still the sense of satisfaction he can get from wrecking Martin and the little patch of skin he swatted earlier is undergoing a lovely colour transformation.

“I’m sorry.” Martin says.

“I suppose you are.” Jon replies. “What am I going to do about it?”

“Punish me.” Martin says. “Please Jon, I deserve it.”

Jon gives him another slap for that, this time a little harder. Martin yelps.

“Well, since I have this thing out, I suppose I might as well.” Jon says. “And if you take it nicely enough, I might decide you’ve been good enough to get fucked after.”

That’s a foregone conclusion. Jon’s already wearing the strap, the toy Martin picked out for him already mounted. It isn’t as big as the one already inside Martin, but that just means he won’t have to work Martin open before fucking him.

“Oh, thank you Jon, thank you!” Martin says.

Jon hits him again before he can think of more praise to give. This time he doesn’t stop with one. Jon lets the blows rain down. He keeps them soft enough that there won’t be a mark later on this evening, but sharp enough that there’s the sting Martin wants.

They didn’t agree on how many times Jon would hit him in the negotiation for the scene (which is why he hasn’t got Martin counting), but Jon tells himself he’ll stop when Martin starts to cry.

He doesn’t though. The tears start falling and Jon thinks ‘just a little more.’ Martin’s a big boy. He can take it. He asked for it. Not in a creepy way or anything - he sat down with Jon and told him he wanted to be hit.

If Martin wanted it to stop, if he decided that enough was enough, he’d safeword. That’s what their safewords are for. There’s no shame in using them. He doesn’t though.

Jon continues until his arm begins to get tired, a slight burn from holding his arm up and swinging it. It doesn’t take that long - it’s not like he spends a lot of time working on his arms at the gym (or any other part for that matter). He knows Martin is in a darn sight more pain than him right now.

Jon lays the crop on the bed. He steps in close to Martin. His fingers come around the base of the dildo, pulling slightly. Not enough to remove it, just to test the resistance.

“Have you been good enough, do you think?” Jon asks.

“Please, Jon!” Martin says. “I’ve been good. Please fuck me.”

Jon slowly tugs the dildo out of Martin, who moans as it slides free. He gets it about halfway out before abruptly pushing it back in. Then he begins to fuck Martin on it.

Martin’s feet scrabble, but locked into the spreader bar there isn’t anywhere for them to go. Jon doesn't tease him for long - he can already tell that Martin is close. So after a few thrusts, he slides the dildo out. Martin gapes obscenely.

Jon looks at him for a moment. He traces a finger around Martin’s stretched out rim, but doesn’t dip it in.

“What are you waiting for?” Martin asks petulantly.

“Be good or I won’t fuck you.” Jon reminds him.

“I’m sorry…” Martin says.

“I forgive you. I’m just putting on a bit of lube. I don’t think you want to take this dry.” Jon says.

Martin opens his mouth to say something else, but at that moment, Jon slides home and all that comes out is a moan.

Jon sets a frankly brutal pace. It’s not something he’d be able to keep up for very long, but he doesn’t need to. Martin was already close when he started and he only comes closer to orgasm when Jon wraps a hand around his cock and begins to stroke him.

The positioning of the strap isn’t right to turn Jon on,, it doesn’t push the base of the dildo up against his clit and he’s also fully clothed. But that doesn’t stop him from dedicating himself to making Martin come. He achieves it in short order, Martin’s come splattering over his hand.

Jon undoes the cuffs quickly after that. He can tell the position is already straining Martin. Martin rolls over onto his back while Jon removes the strap on.

“I’m not actually mad about the plate.” Jon says when he settles in the bed next to Martin.

“I know.” Martin says.

If anything it was Martin being mad at himself. That he’d fucked up. That he’d ruined something. That Jon wasn’t mad at him even though he made a mistake.

Then he asked Jon to do this so that he could have a sense of absolution.

“Do you feel better now?” Jon asks.

“I do.” Martin replies.

“Then I’m glad.”


	5. E is for Exact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Beholding powers

“Jesus it’s cold outside.” Martin says.

“It is three point eight degrees.” Jon tells him. “Which is, huh, exactly the same as our fridge.”

* * *

Martin taps the pen on the next line of the shopping list he’s writing. “I’ve got milk, bread, rice, and that spiky fruit you like so far.” He calls out to Jon. “Can you think of anything else we need?”

“Spiky fruit?” Jon says. “Do you mean dragon fruit?”

“Sure.” Martin replies. He strikes ‘Jon spiky fruit’ off the list and replaces it with dragon fruit. “Anything else we need?”

“The apples in the fruit bowl are going rotten.” Jon says.

“Good to know.” Martin says, and adds that. “We have enough pasta, right?”

“Six hundred and twenty four grams.” Jon replies. “Should do us for a while.”

* * *

“Jesus, it’s dark already. What time even is it?”

“Four fifty eight.” Jon says without looking at his watch. “Sunset was at four thirty two.”

* * *

“I think this bag may be too heavy.” Martin says. They’ll have to pay an extra fee at the airport unless he can figure out something to take out.

“It’s twenty two point eight kilograms.” Jon says. They haven’t put it on the scales yet.

“That’s within the limit, right?” Martin asks.

“Limit is twenty three, but the scales at the airport will weigh it heavier than it actually is. You need to take out a couple of things. My bag’s underweight - you can put them in there if they’ll fit.”

“If they fit?” Martin queries.

“One of your jumpers will have to go. Don’t make that face.” Jon says, even though Martin was definitely not making a face. “Keep the blue one though - there’s a cold front coming in overnight and it will be quite cold when we get there. I plan to steal it.”

“I’ll put the blue one in my hand luggage then.” Martin says.

“Thank you.”

* * *

“You’ve got to go to Swansea for the weekend?” Martin says, incredulous. He’s not entirely sure where Swansea is. Wales. He thinks.

“Yes.” Jon replies.

“That’s pretty far away, isn’t?”

“It’s-”

“I don’t need to know exactly!” Martin says. “Do you ever get, I don’t know, tired of knowing, well, _everything_?”

“Sometimes I do.” Jon says. “Sometimes I really do.”


	6. F is for Freckles

“Ah, hello.” Martin says when Jon slides into his lap.

“Hi.” Jon says.

Jon leans in and Martin expects a kiss on the lips. But Jon’s lips land on the side of his brow instead. Jon kisses him there five times in quick succession, just little pecks, before he moves to the other side. 

“Uh, Jon?” Martin asks.

“Mmm?” Jon asks between peppering kisses over Martin’s cheeks and nose.

“What exactly. Um, what are you doing?”

“I,” Jon says, stopping to give Martin a peck, “am going to kiss every single one of your freckles.” He stops between each word for a kiss.

“Every one of them?” Martin asks with humour.

“Yes.” Jon says. “Take off your shirt. I know how far down they go already.”

Jon gives him a little bit of space as Martin fulfils his request. It is a fairly warm day and with Jon in his lap Martin’s sure to start sweating soon.

“Do you know how many freckles I have?” Martin asks dryly.

Martin’s never tried counting before. It just seems like a pointless task. The number is in the vicinity of ‘a lot,’ although that’s down from ‘a fuckton’ which is how many he had as a little kid back when his hair was properly red and not the faded-out gingery blond it is now.

“I _could_ know.” Jon pulls back to say.

“That’s not necessary. Go back to kissing me now.” Martin says.

Jon smirks, but he complies.

“Really, every single one…?” Martin murmurs.

“Each and every.” Jon replies.

Martin fishes a little tube out of his pocket and hands it over to Jon. He doesn’t look down at it, but his fingers try to map out the shape of it.

“What is this?” Jon asks.

“Chapstick.” Martin replies. “If you’re serious about this, you’re going to need it.”


	7. G is for Grind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Light bondage  
> -Overstimulation and orgasm control

Martin did say he liked the texture of these panties. Jon wonders how long it will take for Martin to change his mind, because without them in the way, Martin could easily slip inside him. God, his cunt is so empty right now. Martin could just slide into him and be seated nice and deep. It probably wouldn’t even sting with how wet Jon is. But the panties are in the way.

They’re a silky little number that will probably be totally ruined by the time this is over and done with. Jon changes the angle his hips are at and rolls down again onto Martin’s erection. Both of them moan. The tiny change makes it even better, brings him even closer.

To an outside observer, it may look like Jon’s the one in charge here. After all, he’s the one on top. He’s the one with his thighs splayed wide over Martin’s hips and his arms around Martin’s shoulders. He’s the one grinding down into Martin.

But that’s not the case. Jon’s hands are cuffed, and while he could unhook his arms from Martin’s neck, he doesn’t have permission to touch. And it’s Martin’s hands on his hips, guiding him in the steady rhythm that’s making Jon’s legs shake.

“Can I?” Jon asks.

“I don’t know, _can_ you?” Martin teases.

Jon gives him a sidelong glare. “Sorry, _may_ I?” 

“May you what?” Martin asks.

Jon gasps, because the unknown answer to that question is really becoming urgent.

“May I come?” Jon says. “Please, Martin, I’m really close. Please let me-”

It’s not the first time Jon’s had to ask this since they started. But Martin insisted: every time, Jon has to ask permission.

Martin hasn’t said ‘no’ yet, but...

“I won’t let you stop afterwards.” Martin says.

Jon knows this, knows this goes on until Martin’s satisfied (or he cries uncle). And with the new cock ring Martin’s wearing, his satisfaction is going to be a much longer time in coming.

“I know.” Jon says. “Please Martin? I - oh _fuck_ \- I’m-”

“You can come.” Martin says.

And Jon does. It’s a good thing Martin gave him permission, because he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop it if he’d said no. His head thunks down onto Martin’s shoulder and he shakes as the orgasm takes him. He can feel a few little rivulets roll down his leg where he may have squirted a bit.

Martin’s hands keep guiding him, keep him grinding down onto the erection between his legs. Jon sobs.

“Too much?” Martin asks.

“Yes, I-” Jon gasps, trying to compose himself. But it’s like every one of his nerves is on fire. “Oh God. Martin, I-”

“You can take it.” Martin says.

Jon sobs as he comes again, so close after the last one that it’s more pain than pleasure.

“Was that another one?” Martin asks. “That was _very_ quick, but it sure sounded like it.”

“Yes.” Jon replies. 

“You forgot to ask permission, didn’t you?” Martin says.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.” Martin says.

And Martin picks him up and scoots him back so that there’s nothing for Jon to grind down onto. Jon arms are still looped around Martin’s neck but his hips buck into empty air. There’s need in the back of his throat, thick like honey.

“Now, I was going to fuck your pussy-”

“Oh please. Please, _please_ Martin!” Jon says. Goddamn, he might be oversensitive, but he’s also feeling oh so very empty right now.

“But I don’t think you deserve that, do you?”

“Please Martin, I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be so good.”

“No pet.” Martin says. “I think it’s about time you thought about someone else’s pleasure before your own. Now open your mouth for me.”


	8. H is for Humiliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Omorashi/piss desperation and piss play  
> -(aka Jon gets pissed on and pisses himself)  
> -Piss in the mouth, but not swallowed  
> -Humiliation and degradation

“You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” Martin says.

“I-I” Jon stutters, then shuts his mouth.

“Are you trying to deny it?” Martin asks. “Say it.”

“I’m...” Jon takes a deep breath. “I’m a filthy little thing.”

“I don’t know how you can look me in the eye.” Martin says. “A thing like you should grovel on his knees and beg me to take pity on something as disgusting as he is.”

Jon drops to his knees instantly. The shower floor isn’t exactly forgiving on the knees - Martin would know, he’s knelt in here to eat Jon out often enough - but they really need to be in the shower for this scene, even if they are both fully clothed.

Jon opens his mouth to speak, but Martin gets there before him. And Jon knows better than to interrupt in a scene like this.

“You’re about to piss yourself, aren’t you?” 

“Yes.” Jon replies.

“Filthy boy, couldn’t even get to the toilet in time.” Martin says. Jon doesn’t reply, so Martin prompts “could you?”

“No.”

“I bet this turns you on, doesn’t it. So disgusting, wanting to cover yourself in piss.” Martin says.

“It does. I want it so badly.”

In reality, Martin knows that it’s just as much about holding it until he can’t anymore that turns Jon on. In the complete loss of control he experiences as his bladder releases. And of course, the humiliation when that happens.

“You’re not allowed to piss yourself yet.” Martin says. “You’ll hold it.”

The noise Jon makes isn’t exactly a word. It’s just a sound of desperation. One of his hands slips down between his legs.

“I can’t.” Jon says.

Martin cups Jon’s jaw in one of his hands. His fingers drag roughly along Jon cheeks until they smear roughly at his lips.

“You have to.” Martin says. “But if you’re so desperate to be covered with piss, I suppose I can spare you some of mine.”

Jon whimpers. When Martin drops his head in favour of undoing his flys, Jon’s head just lolls. Martin pulls his cock out. He’s hard. Moreso than he expected to be from this scene. Luckily, Jon agreed that he’d get Martin off in the event this aroused him too.

“Look at me, pet.” Martin says.

Jon looks up just in time to see the arc of Martin’s urine streaming down towards his face. His eyes flutter shut at the first of the piss soaks into his hair, and drips down his collar. Martin aims a few streaks lower down than that, just to thoroughly wet Jon’s shirt and get it all nice and clinging.

Jon’s mouth is closed, which won’t do, so Martin stops his stream, taps Jon on the cheek and says “open up.”

He isn’t going to swallow it, Martin knows, but earlier Jon gave him full permission to piss into his mouth and onto his tongue. And Martin has drunk a lot of water today. Though he has no intention of finding it out for himself, he suspects it doesn’t taste too bad. It barely has a smell.

Jon’s tongue hangs out, so Martin uses it like the target it is and lets that pretty mouth fill with his piss. Jon collects it in his mouth until it overflows and dribbles down his front.

Martin’s stream doesn’t last that long, but Jon is thoroughly soaked at the end of it. When he realises there’s no more liquid incoming, Jon closes his mouth, licking over his lips almost subconsciously.

“Have you gone yet?” Martin asks.

“No, I-”

“Good,” Martin says, “because while you can’t get any filthier, I don’t want your piss all over my leg.”

Martin slides his shin between Jon’s thighs, and Jon latches onto his leg with surprising strength, whimpering all the while. Whether that’s from arousal or a desperate need to piss is anyone’s guess.

Martin only has to prod his erection against Jon’s mouth once to get him to open up. He slides his cock in gratefully. He could leave Jon to do all the work, but it’s far easier to thrust into the wet hole Jon has provided.

“God, you’re such a whore.” Martin says. “You should be ashamed of how much of a desperate slut you are. I bet you can’t decide whether you want to piss or come first, can you?”

Jon can’t answer. Not with Martin’s hand on the back of his head urging him to take Martin’s cock in deeper. But he still looks up at Martin with pleading eyes as his throat opens up and he takes Martin all the way to the root.

It’s only seconds after that that Martin feels wetness through his trouser leg as Jon reaches the point where he can’t hold it any longer. His hips stop rolling down rhythmically for a second or two as he takes in what he’s done. Then there’s a moment where Jon just shudders before his hips start jerking again, more frantic this time in his effort to get off.

“I told you not to do that.” Martin says. “But I guess you just couldn’t help yourself could you?”

He pulls back, all the way out of Jon’s mouth so that he can answer. By the looks of things, Martin’s grip in Jon’s hair is the only thing keeping him upright right now. Jon pants through swollen lips. There’s tears and drool on his face to match the piss he’s soaked in.

“Could you?” Martin prompts when Jon doesn’t answer.

“No.” Jon says, although he’s so hoarse the word is barely there at all.

Martin looks down. The wet patch between Jon’s legs is still growing as his bladder empties itself. Martin wonders idly if Jon tried to stop the flow only for his body to refuse to obey.

“What was that?” Martin says.

“I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to be a filthy disgusting thing.” Jon says.

“I’m glad you know your place.” Martin says.

“Will you fuck me?” Jon asks. “Please Martin...”

“Only good clean boys get fucked.” Martin tells him. “And you’re not clean, are you?”

They talked about this. That Jon might beg, but Martin isn’t to give in to him. That if Jon wants to get off - and he does - he has to take whatever little contact Martin deigns to give him. And if Jon still wants more after the scene ends, Martin will give it in a much more loving way after the scene ends.

“I’m not.” Jon says. “I’m dirty and depraved.”

“Open your mouth for me.”

Jon does and Martin pushes his cock back into the wet heat of Jon’s mouth. Despite his brief respite, Martin is close. He knows it won’t take much attention to make him come. Jon hollows his cheeks out, sucks Martin’s cock like a good little slut should. Martin runs his fingers over the bump the head of his dick is making sliding along Jon’s cheek.

Martin lets the first splurt of his come out into Jon’s mouth. Then he pulls back and spills the rest of his seed across Jon’s cheeks and nose. That makes Jon spasm, and in short order he’s coming too, bucking up so hard on Martin’s leg that it nearly throws Martin off balance.

Afterwards, Jon collapses, letting go of Martin’s leg. His chest is still heaving and his expression unreadable beyond stunned. Martin can’t tell whether it’s more likely that Jon will burst out in laughter or tears.

He reaches a hand down to Jon. “Do you want a hug?”

“I’m covered in… well, filth for lack of a better term.” Jon says, but he does let Martin haul him up.

“I don’t care.” Martin says. “It’ll all wash off and I always want you, no matter how awful you think you are.”

“Okay.” Jon says. “And I can tell you enjoyed it cause…”

Well, Martin’s come is still spread over his face.

“You enjoyed it too.” Martin says. “And I liked seeing you like that.”

“I’m still…”

From the way Jon’s thighs press together and the way he bites his bottom lip, Martin can work out how that sentence finishes.

“Want me to go down on you?” Martin asks.

“When I’m like this?” Jon says.

“I would, if you asked.” Martin says. “But I was planning on sluicing you off first, maybe teasing you a bit with the showerhead?”

“Please.” Jon says.

By the time the water comes on, it’s Martin, not Jon, on his knees in the shower.


	9. I is for Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Sensation play with candles/wax and ice  
> -Blindfolds and light bondage  
> -Implied edging.

“Do you want me on my back or front?” Martin asks.

“On your back.” Jon says. “For now, at least.”

Martin’s already blindfolded. He has been for a little while now while Jon got ready. It’s not like Martin doesn’t know the items Jon has - the candles and the ice, and a few others things. But this will work better if he doesn’t know exactly what’s where.

The blindfold is the only thing he’s wearing. It’s a deep orange in colour, and deliciously soft. Jon likes it the most because it nicely compliments Martin’s hair. Autumn colours really do look good on him.

“Do you want to be restrained, too?” Jon asks. “I could tie your hands. Or maybe your hands to your thighs?”

“What with?” Martin asks.

“Silk scarfs.” Jon replies. He trails one across Martin’s lips, lets him feel the cool water of the material.

“Please.” Martin says.

“How do you want it?”

“Hands to thighs.” Martin says.

Jon’s slow to tie him, taking his time to drag the silk over Martin’s thighs until he’s shivering with want. His cock fills slowly, but Jon knows to ignore it for now. He secures Martin’s wrists loosely, partially so it’s all easy to undo after this. Afterall, Martin said he was going to try his best to be good, and that means no struggling.

“Ready?” Jon asks.

“Yes.” Martin replies.

Jon picks up one of the candles first. It’s been burning a while and there’s a nice pool of wax around the wick. Although, when he thinks about it, the candle is made for exactly this use and it’s not like it takes that much heat to melt the wax.

He tips the candle, letting a small droplet of wax fall onto Martin’s shoulder. Martin gasps. Jon waits a few seconds to see if he’ll safeword, but when Martin doesn’t, he gives him a few more drops on the opposite shoulder. There’s not a lot of melted wax left in that candle after that, but he does his best to draw a line slanting down Martin’s chest between his nipples.

Jon puts the candle down. The wax solidifies pretty quickly, most of it already solid by the time the candle is back on the nightstand. He touches a blob of it, runs his nails underneath to see how firmly it adheres to Martin’s skin. With a little twist, it pops off, and Martin gasps.

“Good?” Jon asks.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad, because that was intensely satisfying.” Jon says. He picks off a few more droplets of wax, which appears to be just as pleasurable to Martin as it is to Jon from the way Martin shudders.

Jon turns back to the nightstand. He could pick up an ice-cube, but one of the other candles is far more tempting. The muscles in Martin’s stomach flinch as Jon drips a line of wax over them. But when he does one lower than that, a scant inch above his pubic hair, it just makes his dick jump.

Picking it all back off again is just as fun as before, but Jon suspects Martin gets something else out of it when he does the line low on his belly. The way Martin moans as he picks at the wax there certainly indicates it.

Jon picks up an ice cube next. Martin gasps again as Jon places it at the base of his throat. Then he moans openly as Jon pushes it up the front of his neck. His head tilts back and Jon runs the ice cube along the upturned bottom of his chin. Then he slides the ice to sit on Martin’s lips.

“Open your mouth, sweet boy.”

Martin’s lips part and Jon slides ice cube and fingers both into Martin’s mouth. It’s hot in here, and he knows what’s remaining of the ice cube will melt quickly. He rubs his fingers on Martin’s tongue, sliding the ice back and forth on it until it’s gone. Then Martin seals his lips around Jon’s fingers and starts sucking.

Jon removes his fingers quickly. “Uh-uh, none of that.” 

“Sorry.” Martin says.

“What do you like more, the candles or the ice?”

“The ice.” Martin says.

Jon suspects he’s biased, but he picks up another ice cube. This one is circled round Martin’s nipples until they’re hard and peaky. Just when Martin gets used to the sensation, Jon takes his nipples into his mouth and sucks on them, one at a time until they’re warm again. Then the process repeats itself.

By the time that ice cube is melted, Martin is whining.

“Please, Jon, _please_.” He says. 

“All in good time.”

That’s not the answer he wants to hear, but he takes it. Jon picks up another ice cube. This one he slowly zig-zags across Martin’s stomach, getting lower and lower as the ice shrinks.

“God Jon...” Martin says as his fingers brush the neat patch of hair above his cock. “Touch me, touch me please.”

The ice is all gone, but Jon wraps his frigid hand around Martin’s cock, giving it a few strokes. He can feel it almost pulse under his fingers. Martin is closer than expected.

“God that’s cold.” Martin says.

“Too cold?” Jon asks as he swipes his thumb over the head.

“Never.” Martin says. “If you keep that up I’ll-”

Jon removes his hand. He shifts so that he can pick up another candle. “If you think I’m anywhere close to done with you, you can think again.”


	10. J is for Jam

Martin wakes to hear Jon moving around elsewhere in the flat. Likely the kitchen. The empty spot of bed next to him is still warm, so Jon can’t have been up for long. He looks over at the clock, squints until the numbers come into focus. Four forty four in the morning. Yeesh.

Then the number tips over to four forty five and the alarm blares. It’s entirely too early to be up, but they need an early start if they’re not going to miss their plane. There was a flight later in the day, but the early one was much cheaper and let them extend their holiday by a day.

Martin walks into the kitchen, only to find Jon staring gormlessly into the fridge. Martin knows it’s pretty empty - they don’t want anything going off while they’re away.

“Morning.” Martin says.

“Morning.” Jon says after a bit of a pause and a yawn.

“What are you looking for?” Martin asks.

“The coffee grounds.” Jon replies.

“In the fridge?”

“Yes.”

“Jon,” Martin says, “we don’t keep the coffee in the fridge.”

“Right.” Jon says.

“Can you grab the jam and butter while you’re there?” Martin asks.

“Sure.” Jon replies.

Martin steps close enough that he can see Jon blink twice before he closes the fridge - without removing the jam or butter. Jon is not a morning person at the best of times, and Martin can tell it’s going to take multiple cups of coffee before Jon comes close to resembling something (semi) human.

“Both of those are in the fridge.” Martin says.

“Right.” Jon says, but he makes no move to open it again. “I…”

“Why don’t you sit down?” Martin says. “I can make breakfast for both of us.”

Jon nods. He moves towards the door and the table beyond that looking like he’s still half asleep. Hopefully he’ll reach the table. Martin makes a start on the coffee. He’d prefer tea, to be honest, but both of them are going to need the stronger hit coffee provides to make it through this morning. They can sleep on the plane.

Martin puts the last of the bread in the toaster, then takes the butter and jam and the things to spread them with over to the table. Jon’s head is pillowed on his arms and it looks like he’s already dozing back off.

Martin reaches out and touches his arm. “You need to stay awake, love.”

Jon grumbles and rubs his eyes. His hair is still mussed from sleep and Martin notices he’s somehow ended up with only one sock on. At least they don’t have to contend with packing this morning. It’s breakfast, wash and dress, and then straight to the airport.

“I know, I know.” Jon says.

Martin pecks him on the lips. “I’ll be back with coffee and toast in a moment. Here’s the butter and jam in the meantime.”

Martin goes back into the kitchen. The coffee pot is almost full, but the toaster is still going. Both of them prefer their toast on the well-done side of things, although when the bread is stale like it is today that’s an easy way to end up with charcoal.

Eventually, though, both are done, and Martin finds a delicate balance where he can hold the plate of toast and the full coffee pot and still open doors. He comes back to the table only to spot Jon suddenly pretending that he wasn’t caught with his finger in the jam jar.

The fact that Jon has a glob of jam on his nose and a streak of the stuff on his chin doesn’t help the innocent look.

“Jesus, it’s like having a toddler.” Martin says. He sets his armload down on the table. “If I leave you alone again I’m probably going to find you facedown having a nap on the butter!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jon replies.

Martin swipes the jam from Jon’s face, then leans down to kiss him good morning properly. His tongue tastes like jam too, and the fingers that lift to trace Martin’s jaw are grubby.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Martin says.


	11. K is for Knitted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Discussion of someone who was not raised Christian and does not currently ascribe to a particular faith (y'know, beyond being the avatar of a fear entity) celebrating Christmas in a non-religious manner.

There’s a package on the table in the morning alongside Jon’s breakfast. It’s wrapped in white tissue paper and tied with a blue ribbon. There’s no tag on it, but Jon can guess it’s from Martin. Afterall, it’s on the table in their flat. Who else could get it in here?

“You know it’s not my birthday for two months, right?” Jon says.

“I know.” Martin says. “But I wasn’t sure if you celebrated Christmas or not, and I didn’t want to be presumptuous and give it to you then.”

“I’m not a Christian,” Jon says (and with some of the things he knows and Knows about the supernatural now, Jon can’t really give a solid opinion on religion these days) “but Christmas is sort of… culturally divorced from its origins. At least the way I view it.”

“Do you celebrate it, then?” Martin asks.

“‘Celebrate’ might be a strong word.” Jon says. “Not that I’d be opposed to it if you want to. But I’m not offended by receiving Christmas presents, or giving gifts in return. And the few dinners I’ve been invited to have been satisfactory affairs.”

His grandmother didn’t celebrate it when Jon was a child, although he knows his mother’s family did. But it was hard to escape it at school. And it’s not like his grandmother was opposed to Jon humming catchy Christmas songs under his breath or coming home with a Christmas card from a classmate. Jon does draw the line at Christmas jumpers though. It would take horrors he can’t imagine - and he’s met quite a few of those, let alone dreamt them up - to force him into one.

“You wouldn’t mind, then, if I put up some decorations. Maybe got us a tree?” Martin says.

“You can do whatever you want.” Jon says. “I’m even happy to join in, although I don’t want to go to church if that’s on the agenda. But presents and an excuse to indulge are always fun. Is it wrong to be excited to have an excuse to start drinking at breakfast?”

“You know full well I’m not a church-goer, and that includes the high holidays.” Martin says “I suppose I’d better think of something to get you, then.”

“You could just save this.” Jon says. “I don’t have to open it now.”

Martin shakes his head. “No, I think I want you to have that now.”

“Alright then.” Jon says. He tugs on one end of the ribbon, and it unravels.

The paper falls away to reveal fabric underneath. Woolen and knitted.

In fact, Jon recognizes it. Martin’s been working on it for the last week or so. Jon resisted the urge to laugh when Martin first said he was taking up knitting, but the hobby turned out to really suit him. And it gave him something quiet to do next to a reading Jon on the sofa.

Jon unfolds the garment, even though he knows it’s a scarf. The wool is butter soft under his fingers and it’s longer than he remembers. It’s a little wonky in places, and he can spot a couple of dropped stitches if he looks closely (and when doesn’t Jon?). Then he wraps it around his neck.

“Do you like it?” Martin asks after a few seconds of standing there like a dog wondering if it might get a treat.

“I love it.” Jon says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I see, Christmas is not handled with quite as much PC (regarding its religious roots) in the UK as it may be in the US. While the UK is predominantly Christian (with a fair Muslim population as well, who are majority desi), and there can't really be separation of the church and state when the head of state is also the head of the church of England, most 'Christians' only consider themselves such because that was the way they were raised, but don't actively go to church or anything. Only about 10 % of people who identify as Christian go to church regularly here.
> 
> As a result, a lot of people celebrate the fun bits of Christmas without the religious aspect. Christmas day, the day after it, and New Year's day are all bank holidays, so, depending on your job, it's an easy way to take a week off without using too much leave. Bear in mind we also don't celebrate Thanksgiving here, so it's not customary to see family then.


	12. L is for Lace

It’s rare that Jon’s at home when Martin isn’t. Jon works longer hours (by his own volition) and while Martin runs most of the errands in return, he tries to time it so that they can maximise their time together.

But it does happen and it’s happened today. Jon’s probably not been held up long though. Martin’s trip out just took longer than expected.

“Sorry I’m late,” Martin says, “it was very busy at Tesco, and when I got out there was a police car and an ambulance there and people were rubbernecking trying to work out what happened.”

“Do you know-” Jon says on his way over.

“No, and I don’t want to.” Martin replies.

The kiss hello is longer than typical, but Martin’s not going to hold that against Jon. Instead, he’s going to hold Jon against him. Jon’s arm wraps around the back of his neck and he presses into Martin and deepens the kiss.

Jon could stand to say hello like this more often.

Martin’s hands slip down Jon’s back. There’s certainly another layer underneath Jon’s (borrowed) jumper, but he can tell it’s not a binder. That much is confirmed from the sort press of Jon against his front.

Martin runs his hands down lower until his fingers can slip into that little skin-window between the bottom of the jumper and the top of Jon’s sweats. But it’s not skin his fingers find. 

“Jon?” Martin asks. “What’s this?”

Jon breaks the kiss. “That would be lace.” He says.

“Do I get to see it?” Martin asks.

“Do you want to?” Jon replies.

“ _Yes_.” Martin says.

Jon takes off his jumper and Martin gapes. Then he takes off his sweats and Martin gapes some more.

It’s a beautiful one piece. Black lace and not so detailed to take away from Jon’s looks. It’s made for a woman, because of course it is, but it fits Jon nicely. It also makes Martin’s mouth water.

“Can I touch?” Martin asks.

“Of course.” Jon says. He places both of Martin’s hands on his waist.

The texture of the lace isn’t exactly soft, but Martin’s not sure how to describe it. It’s intriguing under his fingertips and he can’t imagine wearing underwear made of this stuff. He traces one of the more embellished sections - the edging around Jon’s thighs. That’s even stranger. He wants more of it.

“Does it itch?” Martin asks.

“Not really.” Jon says. “Are you going to take me to bed?”

“Do you think we’ll make it that far?” Martin asks.

They do make it as far as the bed in the end, Jon pulling Martin down on top of him. And, well, if that’s the position they end up in, Martin can’t complain about manhandling.

“I like how it feels under my fingers.” Martin says.

“I like feeling your fingers through it.” Jon says.

“Do you now?” Martin says.

“I do.” Jon says. He covers the back of Martin’s hands with his own. “I like feeling your fingers here.” On his waist. “And here.” His tits. “And here.” His hips. “And especially here.” He moves one of Martin’s hands down between his legs.

Martin finds the hard bead of Jon’s clit and rubs at it. His hips buck into the attention he’s receiving and Jon begins to moan.

“Do you think you’d like to feel my mouth through this?” Martin asks.

“You know,” Jon spreads his legs wider as Martin shuffles down his body, “I think we might need to find out.”


	13. M is for Melody

Jon claims he can’t sing. 

(He knows Jon sang before Martin met him. He still does sometimes - there’s at least one statement with humming (or more) in it. Martin knows Jon was in a band - was the lead singer, even. He knows Jon doesn’t know he knows. 

He’s never worked out why Jon tells that lie.)

Martin’s never voiced his opinion, but he disagrees. It’s more accurate to say that Jon doesn’t sing. Often. Once Martin suggested a date to a karaoke bar, and Jon got so incensed with the idea that he didn’t even notice it was April first. Or that karaoke bars don’t typically require tickets for entry. Or that the tickets Martin had handed to him for were for a concert.

Still, Jon doesn’t sing where other people can hear him.

His voice drifts out from the bathroom, even with the door shut. That’s the room he sings in the most, although sometimes Jon hums to himself when he doesn’t think there are people around to hear it.

It’s nice to hear, because Martin’s figured out that Jon only hums when he’s feeling happy.

Jon’s started humming when Martin’s around as well, over the last few weeks. But still no actual singing. At least not out in the open.

Martin hasn’t told him yet that the shower doesn’t drown out his voice.


	14. N is for Nudity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cw:  
> -Mild dysphoria mention  
> -Discussion of asexuality

“Is it wrong that I like looking at you?” Martin asks.

“I don’t think so?” Jon says.

“I meant looking at you when you’re, you know, like this.” Martin says.

“Naked?” Jon says with a raised eyebrow.

Martin swallows. “Yeah.”

Jon’s naked now. There’s still sweat on his brow. Martin knows for a fact there are other fluids smeared on his skin in other places. Some of them, Martin put there. He’s naked too, but there’s no issue with that.

“The dysphoria isn’t because of you, you know.” Jon says. “It’s going to be there whether you look at me or not. Sometimes putting on clothes helps, so I do.”

“I know.” Martin says, even if really he doesn’t totally get what dysphoria is beyond the fact that Jon really, really, doesn’t enjoy it. “I also meant looking at you and wanting.”

“I like that.” Jon says. “I like that I can affect you so much. That I can make you want me, even if I don’t really understand how or why that works.”

They lie there in silence for a few more minutes, until the chill gets uncomfortable. Martin gets up and heads to the bathroom. He looks back over his shoulder at Jon meaningfully, an invitation in a glance.

Jon grins. He gets up and walks, slightly bow-legged, over to Martin and the open door.

“I do find you attractive.” Jon says, later on when Martin’s washing his back.

“But I thought-”

Jon raises a hand and Martin closes his mouth.

“I can find people attractive. I still experience aesthetic attraction, it just doesn’t translate into sexual attraction.”

“Like artwork?” Martin says. “I can look at a statue and appreciate it’s a depiction of a beautiful person, but not have a desire to have sex with it.”

“Not exactly.” Jon says with a slight wince. “You’re a person, not a slab of marble.”

“Still, people don’t want to fuck statues.” Martin says with his hands up.

“Perhaps with the exception of Gauis Verres.” Jon says.

“Who?”

“Nevermind.” Jon says.

“So you like looking at me?” Martin says.

“Yes.” Jon says. “I can look at you in here and think ‘you are a very attractive man.’”

“It just doesn’t mean you want to bone me.” Martin says.

Jon looks him dead in the eye and shakes his head in despair. “You really didn’t have to phrase it like that.”

“You still enjoy the sex though, right?” Objectively, Martin knows the answer is yes. They’ve been over this before. But the confirmation is always satisfying.

“I enjoy the sex.” Jon says. “It’s fun, it feels good, and I like making you come too. It makes me feel close to you. And I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Martin says. It’s almost a reflex these days, but that doesn’t mean he means it any less.

“Good.” Jon says. “Now get back to washing my back. I’m getting cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the Gauis Verres reference may be a little obscure:  
> -Gauis Verres is the subject of a series of speeches by Roman statesman/lawyer Cicero: the Verrine orations.  
> -The Verrine orations are a legal case agains Verres, who was the Governor of Sicily, about him plundering from Rome's friends and allies.  
> -Verres is accused of not only stealing statutes from occupied/friendly territory, but also not putting them on public display (as was customary in Rome with plundered statues).  
> -Cicero makes some implications that Verres may want these statues for 'unsavoury purposes.'
> 
> Come to think of it, it would have been much simpler if I had just made a Pygmalion reference...


	15. O is for Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> (-All with Jon domming)  
> -Humiliation and dehumanisation  
> -Shoe shining (despite both of them claiming not to be into feet...)

“Kneel.” Jon says.

Martin drops to the floor fast enough that Jon’s knees ache in sympathy. He quashes down that thought. That’s not the emotion he needs to feel right now.

There was no eldritch twist in Jon’s voice. No string of compulsion that Martin could do nothing to resist. Jon didn’t need to use that. Not for this.

He could have. These days every question he asks and every order he gives is honey-laced with the Eye’s power and more often than not it’s a conscious choice to let the words fall from his mouth without it.

But he didn’t say no when Martin asked for this. He can do this without the need to compel Martin into any of it. And he knows Martin will obey his commands.

“Come here.” Jon says. Martin begins to rise. That won’t do.

“I didn’t say you could get up.” Jon adds. “Crawl.”

Martin ducks his head down, but not before Jon catches sight of his flaming cheeks. Jon likes it when that happens - it’s always fun to watch Martin’s freckles fade into his flush. Martin crawls to Jon’s side.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” Jon asks.

“I was-” Martin begins, but Jon shuts him off with a glance.

“Things like you don’t wear clothes.” Jon says. “Only people wear clothes. Take them off.”

This time, Martin knows better than to try and get up. It does make for a rather ungainly strip-show, but Jon’s not been interested in a strip show a day in his life, so that doesn’t really matter. What matters is how red Martin’s going and the way he has to stop and consider whether to try and hide the fact he’s half hard.

He doesn’t. That’s good. Martin should have nothing to hide from Jon, especially in this state.

Jon looks down his nose and the crumpled pile of clothing. “Oh for God’s sake, fold them!” He snaps.

He isn’t frustrated, not really. But Martin did say to be short with him. (And he didn’t say _like you used to be. Like how you treated me years ago when we first started working together_. But he doesn’t have to. Jon knows.)

Martin whimpers and his hands shake as he complies. He’s terribly embarrassed by it all, but when Jon looks down - yep. Hard as a rock. Jon goes pensive for a moment as he thinks of another way to humiliate Martin, who’s knelt down at his feet.

Feet. There’s an idea.

Neither of them have a foot fetish, but neither of them are opposed to doing anything with feet. Martin isn’t repulsed by them (and neither is Jon). He just doesn’t tend to see the appeal, although he’s never turned Jon down when he asks for a foot massage. That’s not what Jon is thinking of right now.

“Martin?” Jon asks.

“Yes?” Martin reacts promptly, like a good boy. Huh, maybe Jon will call him that later if he’s feeling generous. Martin hasn’t earned it yet.

“Shine my shoes for me.” Jon says.

They’re nice shoes. Leather. But fairly new, and not really at all dirty. Which is why Jon doesn’t feel bad about doing this. About what he’s about to order Martin to do.

“Should I get something to…” Martin makes a little buffing motion.

“I think your shirt will do nicely, don’t you?” Jon says.

“Yes Jon.” Martin says.

He picks up his t-shirt from where it was neatly folded. It’s a deep burgundy in colour and probably won’t show too many stains if Jon’s shoes are dirtier than he thought. It’s nice enough not to ruin with polish, so Jon doesn’t request Martin goes and gets that. It’s not like his shoes actually need cleaning.

Martin brings one foot up, to the pose he might use to propose. It provides a nice little footrest for Jon. The sensation of having his shoe shined is a little strange and Jon mostly zones out for it. There’s nothing about it he finds particularly sexually gratifying, but it keeps Martin’s face red and even makes him bite his lower lip.

Martin works mostly in silence, breaking it only to ask “your other foot, please?” Eventually his hands fall still.

“Are you done?” Jon asks.

“Yes.” Martin says.

“Are they clean enough to eat off of?” Jon says.

“I guess?”

“Lick them.” Jon says. It slips out like that when he just meant to say ‘kiss them,’ but Martin moans and laves his tongue across the toes of Jon’s right, then left foot.

“Use that to buff them to a good shine.” Jon says. He has a few more minutes of peaceful zoning out after that.

“I’m done.” Martin says.

Jon nods, mostly to himself. “You can use your feet to take yourself to the bedroom.” Jon says, mindful of the fact that Martin isn’t wearing knee pads. If this is to be repeated, maybe they should invest in some.

“Okay.” Martin says.

“I’m not finished yet.” Jon says, giving him a look that makes Martin look suitably chastised. “But you have been very good for me, and good boys get fucked.”

“Thank you, Jon.” Martin says.

“Pick out whichever dildo you like.” Jon says. “You have ten minutes to prepare yourself for me.”


	16. P is for Pink

They walk hand-in-hand down the street. There are places in this country - places even within this city - where they wouldn’t dare. But this is Soho, and no one’s going to bat an eyelid.

The evening is still young, but Jon has always teased Martin over the fact they’re like a couple of old men. A couple of drinks in one of the tamer gay bars is fine, but they tend to dip out before the party really gets going. Besides those sorts of places aren’t always as fun when you plan to leave in the same company you arrived.

“Have I told you what I’m going to do when I get home?” Jon asks Martin.

“I don’t think so.” Martin says.

That’s because Jon hasn’t. Not yet. He licks his lips

“I’m going to pull you straight into our bedroom and tie you to the bedposts.” Jon says.

“We’re in public, Jon!” Martin hisses.

It’s not that Jon has a particular appetite for sex this evening. But Martin is ever so pretty when he blushes and Jon knows that talking like this makes him go the loveliest shade of pink.

“I know.” Jon says. “No one’s listening but you, though. Where was I? Ah yes - I was going to tie you to the bedposts. I think I’ll use silk scarfs to do it. Then I’m going to get my strap-on - the new one with the Vac-u lock - and the biggest dildo we have.”

“Fucking Christ, Jon, do you want to get me hard on the street?” Martin says. Hisses really.

“If I get you worked up enough are you just going to drag me into one of these alleyways and have your wicked way with me?” Jon asks with a grin.

“I might, but I’m also interested to hear the plan you’re brewing.” Martin says.

“Well, I’m thinking about working you open slowly until you can take my whole fist. Then, while I’m wrist deep inside you, I think we can sixty-nine for a while. See if you can take as much of my cock as I can yours.”

An unfair game because Martin’s not got anything near the length or girth of the largest dildo they own. Which is the one Jon is planning to use. It will be fun to see if Martin can take all of it. That’s what he said to Jon when they first got it, but Jon privately thinks that might have been a bit of bluster. There’s no way, but Martin has proven Jon wrong in these matters before.

“Christ Jon…” Martin says.

“I’ll wait until you beg for my cock. Then, and only then, will I fuck you. And I won’t stop until I’m satisfied, never mind if you come in the meantime. What do you think of that idea?”

“Do you think we should get a taxi?” Martin says. “That would get us home faster.”


	17. Q is for Quilt

“Martin, can you help me with the door.” Jon says. There’s a strain to his voice.

“I’m coming!” Martin says from the other end of their new flat. “Sorry, I was just- what’s that?”

“Help.” Jon says with his teeth gritted. The ikea bag in his arms is stuffed full of fabric, overflowing even, and he’s starting to lose his grip on it. And he’s stuck halfway through the door.

Martin hastens to take whatever it is off Jon. As expected, the bag is heavy, but not nearly as much as he thought. It’s more cumbersome than anything else. Once Martin has it inside, Jon is able to slip past and close the door.

“And this is? I don’t think I ever saw it at yours.” Martin asks as he lays it gently on the ground. There are still other boxes and bags that remain unpacked and most of them haven’t made it further than a few feet from the front door.

“A quilt.” Jon says. “It’s new, or rather not new. Second hand.”

Martin pulls it out of the bag and spreads it out on the floor. About halfway through the process he hopes the floor is fairly clean in this area, because the quilt is gorgeous. It’s colourful, very large, and patterned in geometric tessellating shapes. Martin loves it instantly.

“This wasn’t too expensive, was it?” Martin asks. Moving in together might save them money in the long run, but the moving costs aren’t cheap and they are working to a budget.

Jon shakes his head. “I found it online. Knew about, maybe?” He says. “It was cheaper than it should have been, and before you ask, I Know it doesn’t have bedbugs in it.”

Martin laughs. “That’s good to know.”

“I always thought ‘new partner, new bedding.” Jon says. “Not that we’re new, per se, but moving in. I just thought I’d surprise you. A housewarming gift. For the bed. Our bed. Sorry, I’m rambling and-” Jon takes a deep breath. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”


	18. R is for Ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one noticed the 30 seconds or so where I accidentally made this chapter 4 of _(All in) Good Time_ , right?

Martin hasn’t bought a ring yet, but that’s only because he hasn’t found the right one yet. He’s been looking for months. Never when Jon’s awake, and only when the mood strikes him, but enough. Youtube has started playing ads for engagement rings at him. Hopefully Jon won’t pick up on it.

They should talk about this first. Before Martin asks. Before Martin buys a ring. He knows that.

But he hasn’t brought it up with Jon yet. He’s still too nervous to, even though he can’t feasibly see the other man saying no. And if it actually is, it would be for a good reason. But what if Jon has one of those and Martin just doesn’t know about it yet?

Maybe Jon will want to give him a ring too. Maybe Jon will want matching ones, and then it would be plain selfish of Martin to choose what they’re going to wear without consulting Jon. He might pick something out that clashes horribly with Jon’s favourite shirt and then Jon will have to choose between the shirt and the ring and...

Not buying before he asks means proposing without a ring. And that just doesn’t sit right with Martin. Under all the bluster, Jon’s quite the romantic. Which means he’d probably appreciate a more traditional proposal.

It doesn’t mean, Martin supposes, that he can’t ever suggest the idea of marriage to Jon without a proposal. Just in case he’s read this wrong. Just in case Jon doesn’t really believe in marriage. Make sure they’re on the same page before Martin formally asks.

But he’s also known since Scotland - since that tiny cabin - that he wants to marry Jon. There’s no question of that. The thought didn’t even surprise him, it just popped into his head one day all ‘ _I’m going to marry that man one day_ ’ and hasn’t left yet.

The time isn’t right yet. But he’ll bring it up. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I am here to be a horrible tease again.


	19. S is for Stretch

As much as Martin likes to see Jon wearing his clothes, there are advantages when Jon wears something that’s actually sized correctly on him. There are a couple of pairs of jeans he has that make his arse look fantastic when he wears them. There’s a beautifully patterned silk shirt that Jon says was a silly indulgence, but Martin likes to run his fingers over, following the swirls in the fabric.

And then there are moments like this.

Jon stretching as he gets up off the sofa, his arms over his head. His wrists peek out of the sleeves as he stretches to full extension, but better than that is the little sliver of stomach that peeks out the bottom of his shirt. Martin fixates on it - it’s soft, furred over with the beginning of Jon’s treasure trail. He’s touched Jon there hundreds of times, but sometimes it’s just nice to just look.

“What are you looking at?” Jon says.

“Oh, nothing.” Martin says. He stands too, takes Jon in his arms and kisses him softly. Martin’s fingers trace that little strip of skin between shirt bottom and trousers. “Nothing at all.”


	20. T is for Tangles

“Ah- Christ Martin, be _gentle_!”

“I’m sorry!” Martin says. “I really am, but this is a mess.”

Martin slides the comb back through Jon’s hair until he finds another tangle. They started out trying this with a brush, but the surface coverage was too great. Couldn’t even begin pulling it though Jon’s hair before finding another matt.

About ten minutes ago Jon exclaimed that it was about time he chopped the lot of it off. Martin couldn’t help the way his face twisted. He loves Jon’s hair, the feeling of it running through his fingers. But it’s Jon’s body and if that’s what he wants, it’s what he wants.

It took one look at Martin’s face for Jon to apologise and say he was just frustrated. He likes his hair too, really. Wouldn’t wear it long unless he wanted to.

“As you are making me aware.” Jon says.

Well, Martin’s just glad they’re not doing this in front of a mirror. He’d be unlikely to be able to stomach this if he could see how often (he imagines) Jon winces. It can’t be comfortable, but Martin isn’t used to brushing out long hair. Not really.

The comb hits another knot. Martin teases the looser strands of hair out of it until the real tangle is apparent. God, there’s something other than hair in there. There have been a few torn bits of leaf in other sections of Jon’s hair, but this might even be sap.

Maybe he will have to cut just a bit of Jon’s hair after all. Then it suddenly slips free, the gunk dry and crumbling as Martin’s fingertips slide over it. He moves on until he finds the next knot.

Martin has half a clue of how not to tug too hard. But he still wants to apologise with every sharp inhale Jon makes when Martin finds another tangle.

“We’re nearly done.” Martin says. They’re not. Barely two thirds. But it might placate Jon. “How did this even happen?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.” Jon says. “Windy day. Lost my hair tie. Got dragged backwards through two hedges.”

“You know,” Martin says, “that would explain the twigs.”


	21. U is for Undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Overstimulation  
> -Pre-agreement that only safewording counts as withdrawn consent (i.e. 'no' and 'stop' will be ignored)

Jon whimpers, but that just makes Martin push the vibrator against him harder. Jon’s so muddled that he can barely tell the pain from the pleasure. His clit is going to be bruised after this. If he healed like a normal person he’d probably be unable to walk tomorrow.

Earlier on, he had a semblance of control, despite being tied hand and foot to the bed. Earlier on he didn’t think Martin would push him this far past desperate. Earlier on, he didn’t think he’d like it this much.

“Martin, I can’t, I can’t.” Jon says. It really feels like that. He can feel something building, although whether that’s his next orgasm or an oncoming heart attack is a fifty-fifty.

“Yes you can.” Martin says.

Martin’s semen has gone tacky on Jon’s stomach, but they’ve been so long at this that it looks like he might be getting hard again. Jon wonders if he’s going to get fucked again. Could he even handle that right now.

(The answer is yes. Jon knows it’s yes. He’s aching for it.)

“I can’t.” Jon says. ‘I can’t’ is not his safeword. “I can’t keep - oh _fuck_. Martin, I’m… _ahhh_!”

And like that he comes. It’s his eighth orgasm of this session. Or maybe his ninth. Jon’s pretty much lost count. And he knows that won’t be the last Martin tries to give him tonight.

That’s how this began. How many times can Jon come in a row. He heals so fast now. Does that affect it at all?

Before they started, Martin had asked what Jon’s record was for a single session before. Six. Six orgasms was the answer. Then Martin asked if Jon thought he could keep going for long enough for Martin to get hard again. Then he tied Jon down and the rest is history.

After that last orgasm, Martin gives him a temporary reprieve where he teases Jon’s entrance instead. The head of the vibrator is too big to penetrate him, but that doesn’t stop Martin from pressing it up to his stretched out entrance threateningly.

Jon moans. Then Martin flicks something on the vibrator and the vibrations get even stronger. Jon almost screams. He didn’t know they hadn’t reached the highest setting yet.

“Please, Martin, please.” Jon says.

“What do you want?” Martin asks. His free hand is on his cock, which he’s managed to coax back to full hardness.

“My clit.” Jon chokes out.

Martin scarcely has to touch the vibrator to it to get Jon to come again. This time he comes hard. Intense in both pain and pleasure, and Jon loses several seconds to blackness.

“Can you manage one more?” Martin asks. “For me?”

“I’ll try.” Jon says. He hasn’t safeworded yet, so it’s at Martin’s discretion. He’s beyond fucked out. He’s come undone too many times.

“Good boy.” Martin says, and he’s sliding into Jon. “I know it hurts.”

It does. Martin’s right. But it also feels good too. Martin doesn’t let up on the vibrator, keeping it neatly tucked in by Jon’s clit. And Martin fucking him is perfect too. It feels right to be full. He’s been empty too long.

“It’s good.” Jon says.

“It is?” Martin says with a grin. “Do you think you can manage one more orgasm?”

“Maybe?” Jon says. “I think I’m close.”

“You think?” Martin says. “Haven’t you had enough practice?”

“Oh, fuck you.” Jon says. “I’m - oh, Martin _there_. Right _there_!”

“Go on,” Martin says, “you can do it.”

The orgasm is intense with something that isn’t exactly pleasure, but is still very satisfying. He feels himself clench around Martin, who swears and pulls out to come on Jon’s thighs. Jon barely notices the loss.

When he finds himself back to living a purely corporeal existence, Martin is untying him. He kisses each of Jon’s wrists and ankles. He offers Jon a bottle of water.

“Honestly, after that my limbs feel like lead.” Jon says. “Or jelly. Or something in between.”

“Something in between lead and jelly?” Martin asks.

“Yes.” Jon says and explains no further.

“Well, I can hold it for you, if you like?” Martin says. He brings the water bottle to Jon’s lips and he drinks deeply. When he’s done with that, Martin feeds him a couple of chocolates too.  
“Was that everything you wanted?” Martin asks.

“Yes.” Jon says. “Thank you.”

“Really, Jon, anytime.”


	22. V is for Virgin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Consensual non-consent  
> -No negotiation or aftercare is shown, but it would take place if this wasn't just a snippet  
> -Virginity kink  
> -Jon roleplaying as a virgin who has never had an orgasm

Martin tosses Jon unceremoniously onto the bed. He bounces a bit. With his hands bound behind him like that, there’s no way for Jon to catch himself, and Martin’s on him before he can properly collect himself.

He pulls Jon’s trousers down before Jon can get himself together. He has them most of the way off before he can even think to object. There’s nothing beneath - they agreed on that earlier on so that this would be a little bit easier for Martin to pull off.

“What are you doing?” Jon says. “Stop!”

“Shush…” Martin tells him. “Everything is going to be okay.”

The spreader bar is just in reach if Martin leans down and picks it up - right where he put it while they prepped this scene. Jon even has the good graces not to try and escape as Martin is preoccupied picking it up. He gets Jon into it in record time, but then again, Martin’s had plenty of practice at that.

It would be nice to get Jon fully naked for this, but he already told Martin he wanted to keep his shirt on, and Martin can respect that. Besides, there’d be no way to get it over his tied hands without destroying it, and while Jon generally enjoys having his clothes ripped off, that shirt is one of his nicer ones.

At least he looks good in it, although Martin suspects he’d find Jon to look good in nigh on anything.

“Please,” Jon says. “I’ve never…”

“You’re a virgin?” Martin asks.

“Yes.” Jon says.

“Don’t worry,” Martin says, his hands stroking up the vulnerable inside of Jon’s spread thighs, “that’s easy to fix.”

Jon’s body betrays him. When Martin’s fingers dip into his slit, he’s already nicely wet and his clit is hard when Martin’s fingertips slide over it.

“No, no, stop it.” Jon whimpers, even as his hips buck up into Martin’s touch.

“You’re a big boy, aren’t you.” Martin says. “You can take it.”

Martin feeds a few fingers into him from his other hand. Jon’s cunt takes them greedily. Martin thrusts them sharply into him in the same rhythm his other hand uses to jerk Jon off.

“Stop! Please stop!” Jon cries. “I don’t - oh God. What’s _happening_. What are you doing to me?”

Jon’s clenching down pretty hard and Martin can tell he’s close.

“Haven’t you ever had an orgasm before?” Martin asks.

“No, I - oh, _fuck_.” Jon says, and then he’s coming hard on Martin’s fingers. “Oh God I… _no_ , please.”

“There we go,” Martin says, “you’re enjoying yourself now.”

“Please let me go…” Jon says.

“Oh come now, we’re just getting started. Now...” Martin picks up the spreader bar with one hand and lifts it up and back, marvelling at Jon’s flexibility. He moves in closely until the head of his cock is pressed against Jon’s entrance. “I think it’s time we took care of this little virginity problem.”


	23. W is for Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Edging

“Jon, _please_.”

Despite his begging, Jon just removes his hand from Martin’s cock. Again. It’s leaking now, a constant dribble from the tip. Martin suspects half the moisture in his body will have eked its way out of there by the time Jon lets him come.

“Be patient, love.” Jon says. “I told you you had to wait.”

That much is true, but Jon also said that a fair while back. He’s moved Martin from a couple of fingers to a lovely vibrating toy with a curved head since then. The same toy is still rattling away next to his prostate and is just as suspect to bring him off as Jon’s hand.

As if reading his mind, Jon turns down the strength of the vibrations in the toy. The noise that comes out of Martin’s mouth can’t be called anything other than a whine.

“Can I come, _please_?” Martin asks.

“No.” Jon replies. “Not yet.”

Martin sobs in desperation as the would-be orgasm passes him by. They’re coming more and more frequently now, and it’s getting harder to stop them. God knows what Jon would do to him if he came before he was given permission.

“Jon…” Martin groans.

“Shhh sweetheart…” Jon says. “It’s only been fifty minutes and you told me I could edge you for an hour and a half. By God, I’m going to hold you to that.”


	24. X is for Xenogeny

Martin finds Jon staring at a photograph. It’s not one Martin’s seen before, but it looks well taken care of, especially as he gets the feeling it’s old. 

It’s a portrait of a couple. Martin’s not all that familiar with the, ah, cultural practices of people from the same sort of background as Jon, but from their finary, he thinks it might be a wedding photo. It is, perhaps, a little serious for that.

“Your parents?” Martin asks. The woman has Jon’s nose, and he can see a bit of Jon in the way the man holds himself.

“My grandparents.” Jon replies, which is a bit of a shock. The picture is in colour, the red and gold of the woman’s sari (is it a sari? Martin knows next to nothing about these types of clothes) is still vibrant despite the age of the photograph.

“Oh.” Martin says. “She’s younger than I thought, if these were taken in colour.”

Jon shrugs. “They had my father when she was still young. She’s only seventeen here, at the wedding.”

“Jesus…” 

“Also, my mother was white, so there’s that…”

Martin can feel his cheeks go red with embarrassment. It’s not like he doesn’t know his partner, but…

“Do you think they’d be surprised at us?” Martin asks.

“At us?” Jon says. “Together? Maybe. People their age aren’t known to be progressive.”

“Or at what we’ve done. The things we’ve seen.” Martin says.

“I don’t think any parents expect their children to be anything other than human.”

“Tell that to my mother.” Martin says. “She always expected me to become a monster.”

Jon picks up Martin’s hand and interlaces their fingers. “Children never turn out as their parents expect, now do they?”


	25. Y is for Yield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Jon being a brat  
> -Implied discipline for brattish behaviour

“Okay, Jon, can I have it back now?” Martin asks.

It’s a new toy that Jon is holding. A leather flogger, each strip of which is suede-soft. Jon has already tested out what it feels like to be hit with it by inflicting it on his own forearm. Now he’s dragging it softly over the same patch of skin.

“I like it.” Jon says. “I want you to use it on me.”

“I was fully intending to.” Martin replies. “But you need to give it back so that I can.”

Jon’s mouth twists upwards. “Make me.” He says.

A dangerous phrase at the best of times. Martin observes the taut lines of Jon’s body, tense like a rabbit about to bolt at the first sign of danger. He has no doubt that Jon will be off before Martin can try to grab him. But in the long run they both know Jon has no chance of escape.

“Oh, you’re asking for it now.” Martin says right before he lunges.

Predictably, Jon dodges and he’s halfway out of the room - flogger still at hand - before Martin has recomposed himself. Martin chases him out to the living room, but by the time he gets there, there’s a coffee table in between him and Jon.

Martin approaches warily. As expected, trying to dart round it doesn’t work - they just end up doing a one-eighty and still end up staring each other down from opposite sides of the table. Jon flicks the flogger in Martin’s general direction, but it doesn’t come anywhere near close to hitting him.

Martin lunges to the left, and Jon moves into action. But it was only a faint, and Martin corrects his course, causing Jon to barrel straight into him.

“Fuck.” Jon says as Martin’s hands clamp him around the upper arms. “Let me go!”

“No.” Martin says with faint amusement, because he knows Jon doesn’t really mean that.

Jon tries to hit at Martin with his implement, but with his upper arms restrained, he’s only got his elbow to pivot from and it’s barely more than a dull thunk. Martin walks him backwards until the back of Jon’s knees hit the end of the sofa. Then he gives Jon a sharp shove so that he topples backwards over the arm.

Jon whimpers. He throws his arms up in front of him to defend himself, but after only a brief fight, Martin captures both of his wrists. Despite all of this, Jon still tries to rise. So Martin leans over and uses a hand on Jon’s shoulder to press him down into the cushions.

“I yield, I yield.” Jon says as Martin plucks the flogger from his fingers.

“Do you now?” Martin says as he takes his weight off Jon.

“I do.” Jon says. He licks his lips. “I-”

“Turned on?” Martin asks.

“...Maybe.”

Martin tugs Jon’s tracksuit legs. It takes a few sharp pulls and some helpful wriggling from Jon to tug them off. Martin slides his hand down the front of Jon’s briefs and finds him wet and wanting.

Jon moans, despite the awkward position he’s in, hips up and over the arm of the sofa. He can’t really thrust up into it like this, but his eyes flutter shut as Martin takes his clit between two fingers and begins to jerk Jon off.

“ _Please_ , Martin.” Jon says between gasps. “Fingers. Please finger me.”

“Ha!” Martin says. “You are going to take what you are given. I don’t feel like giving you my fingers right now.”

Jon makes a keening noise, but Martin knows this is going to be enough to get him off. Jon’s eyes screw shut as he reels in the sensation. His breath begins to hitch as he gets closer and closer.

Martin watches his face as he gets closer and closer. Waiting. Judging for exactly the right time. Just before Jon reaches his crest, before Jon can even announce it, Martin removes his hand.

“Martin…” Jon whines.

“What?” Martin says. “You really think I’d let you come? After that display earlier?”

“ _Oh God_.” Jon whispers.

“You yielded.” Martin reminds him. He hefts up their new flogger. “Now turn over so that I can give you what you’ve earned.”


	26. Z is for Złoty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -Brexit mention

Jon picks up the remote and turns off the television. The news vanishes to a blank screen. Good riddance.

“I was watching that, you know.” Martin says blandly.

In which case, Jon supposes that he’s sorry, but he’s more frustrated than apologetic. Brexit seems to be the only thing on the news anymore. It would take a story of enormous and possibly global importance to knock it from the headlines.

“I know, but if I hear one more thing about Brexit I am going to deafen myself with a pair of rusty spoons.” Jon says.

“And how are you going to go about doing that?” Martin asks.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Jon says. “Just like I no longer care about Brexit. I didn’t want it in the first place, but it’s happening. I don’t care if it’s hard or if it’s soft, I’d rather it just got on with fucking me in the arse rather than dragging it all out.”

“I don’t think you had to phrase it quite like that…” Martin says.

“Like what?” Jon says.

“Like you’re begrudgingly performing your wifely duties to Brexit.” Martin says.

Jon rolls his eyes at Martin. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He says. “But by the looks of things, neither of us will be a citizen of the European union by next year.”

“You might not be,” Martin says. “But I have dual nationality.”

“Really?” Jon asks.

Martin nods. “Mum was Polish. And Polish parents produce Polish children. Thus I am a Polish citizen.”

“Fancy sharing?”

“Let me look that up for you.” Martin says. “See if it’s possible.”

Jon could just Know it. Martin knows that Jon could just Know it. But he lets Martin have his own agency. Martin must find the right webpage, because he hums and haws over the information he’s obtained as he reads it.

“We’d have to be married for three years, lived in Poland for two, and you’d need to learn to speak Polish.” Martin says.

“You know,” Jon says with a grin and a tone that makes it clear he’s not serious, “that wasn’t exactly how I imagined you’d propose to me.”

“Jon!” Martin shouts.

They haven’t talked about marriage yet. But it’s not off the table. Far from it. 

But he won’t rush Martin into anything. It will all come in it’s own time. And by that time perhaps Poland will actually recognise a union between two men.

(Or it won’t. Maybe he and Martin aren’t meant to be in the long run. But Jon doesn’t like to think about that. He pushes the thought down as soon as it rises because it’s just negative bullshit. He’d go to the ends of the Earth for Martin and he’s pretty sure his boyfriend would do the same in return.)

“I guess I’ll have to start saving my Złoty for a good ring.” Jon says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, I've had great fun with this fic. Let me know which your favourite was!
> 
> I'll be doing another run-through of the alphabet at some point, because I wrote doubles for some letters, but I've been working on the longer fics in this series in the meantime.
> 
> If you celebrate it, merry Christmas, and if you don't, happy New Year!

**Author's Note:**

> So, I ended up writing 31 not 26 of these, and while Writhe has already been published, that leaves 4 more prompts that I haven't written...
> 
> So This might go up to 52 chapters one day, or I might do a similar thing at some point and use the extra prompts there.
> 
> If you really enjoy one of these little snippits, be sure to let me know and something similar might worm its way into the main series ;)


End file.
